


Dust to Dust

by DamsonDaForge



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Angst, Devotion, Drowning, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, M/M, Major Character Injury, Medical Trauma, Pining, Severe Injury, Trust, breathing difficulties, daforge - Freeform, suffocating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28387497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DamsonDaForge/pseuds/DamsonDaForge
Summary: When Geordi is injured on an away mission, Data has to make a life-saving decision for his friend.
Relationships: Data & Geordi La Forge, Data/Geordi La Forge
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63
Collections: To Boldly Gift: Fics 2020





	Dust to Dust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cosmichobo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmichobo/gifts).



> There are depictions of graphic medical interventions as well as detailed descriptions of not being able to breathe.

* * *

Geordi looked around. There was sand and sky and rock and not a whole hell of a lot else. He could see a tangle of magnetic field lines and a torrent of radiation howling out from the star above their heads.

Looking out over the sand, he could make out the Kelraxian equipment some way off. It was the only conductive material in the area and it was laid out over about a square kilometre of flat ground.

The Kelrax were a shy, non-aligned people who had, some fifteen years’ previously, successfully negotiated to place a stellar research post in Federation space. They had wanted to study the particularly active T-Tauri star in this system, which was a rarity in their space.

For reasons known only to themselves, they had abruptly abandoned their station a few months earlier. The star had been going through a peak in activity which continued to this day, but their instruments should have been robust enough to cope. The station itself had also been built underground for additional shielding.

Their small Away Team had beamed down to the abandoned station to try to retrieve the Kelraxian records and establish the reason for their unexpected departure from the planet.

“There’s no power to their observational array,” Geordi shouted over the wind, pointing off to where he could see that distinctive metallic signature.

“Damn it,” said Commander Riker. “I guess that means the best we can hope for is auxiliary power when we get down there.”

Geordi nodded and pulled out his tricorder. The star had been in this active phase for about eighteen months. In addition to that storm of radiation, there were plasma vortices and intense magnetic disturbances in the atmosphere of the planet.

“We shouldn’t stay out here much longer, Commander,” he said, confirming with numbers what he could see with his VISOR. “The readings are consistently spiking into the red zone.”

“Understood. Mr Data, if you will?” Riker gestured to the entranceway that had been built into the nearby rock-face.

“Of course,” said Data and he stepped forward.

He was able to force the door and access the turbolift-style elevator.

“There is no power to the mechanism,” Data reported, having scanned the area with his tricorder. He bent down and opened the hatchway in the floor of the lift. “There is an access ladder in the side of the shaft.”

“Then I guess we’re climbing,” said Riker.

Geordi pulled out the strap of his primary engineering kit and slung it crossways across his body. Then he picked up a rucksack containing further equipment and carried it over to the lift. Data was already halfway into the hatch and once he was through the hole, Geordi passed it down. Data settled it onto his back and then began the long climb down.

Geordi swung his legs over the opening and clambered onto the ladder. Having gone a few rungs, he glanced down and then wished he hadn’t. His VISOR gave him a perfect view to the bottom of the lift shaft and it was half a kilometre down. Heights didn’t bother him particularly, but that was a hair-raising drop to be hanging over.

“Problem, Geordi?”

La Forge looked up and Commander Riker’s face had appeared in the hatchway.

“We knew they built it deep, but that’s ridiculous,” he replied, nodding downwards.

“How far?” Riker asked.

“500 metres, give or take.”

Riker whistled. “Our comms are going to go out about halfway down.”

“Yeah and this rock type isn’t going to help. I think they built their station here because the rock is rich in lucitite in its crystalline form.” Geordi could see its distinctive shimmer all around him and the way it had quieted the roar of the star’s activity was striking, even this close to the surface. “Great protection from the radiation and magnetic disturbances. Terrible for comms and transporters.”

“Okay, I’ll make a report to the _Enterprise_ now and then I’ll follow you two down.”

“Aye, sir,” said Geordi and he got going.

Slow and steady was going to win this one, but about halfway down, Geordi’s calves and hamstrings were on fire. His hands and feet ached, the hundreds of rungs he had climbed down taking their toll. He could hear Commander Riker huffing and puffing above him, no doubt struggling just the same. Data, of course, had no such difficulties and had reached the bottom some time ago. He’d set up a light and the base of the shaft was flooded with a warm glow.

“There is a long corridor ahead and a closed doorway,” Data reported. “Do you wish for me to open it?”

“Hold your position,” Riker called down. “I don’t want you going in there alone.”

“Aye, sir,” Data called up.

“You think there’s a problem?” Geordi asked. 

“We don’t know why they abandoned the station,” Will said. “Their reports were pretty cagey about that.”

Eventually, aching and sweaty, Geordi and, shortly afterwards, Commander Riker got to the bottom.

“Hell’s teeth,” said Will. “That was horrible.”

Leaning against the wall and shaking out his aching hands, Geordi grinned at him. “I thought you liked climbing. Going back up’ll be even more fun.”

Will gave him a filthy look and then took a water bottle out of Data’s backpack. He took a couple of swigs and passed it to Geordi. Thirsts quenched and a little recovered, the three of them made their way to the doors at the end of the corridor.

Data forced them open and then he and Will switched on their hand lamps. Geordi, not needing one to see by, opened his tricorder.

“I’ve got minimal power readings and I mean minimal,” he said, sweeping the large stellar lab in front of him. He pointed at the far side of the room. “Their fusion reactor is in that annex.”

“Go and see what you can get out of it, Geordi. Data and I will see if we can locate their computer core.”

Everything in the lab appeared to have been left in a fairly orderly way. A few personal display devices had been left lying around, but to Geordi’s mind, they could have been left there the night before, to be picked up the following day. It didn’t look like there had been an accident or explosion, it looked like they’d just… left. It was odd.

The reactor was through an opening and around a slight curve. Geordi gave it a full spectral analysis, first with his VISOR and then, for the particular wavelengths that had caught his attention, into more detail with the tricorder. It looked to be in good shape. Like the rest of the lab, there was no damage or disrepair, it had been shutdown in sequence – rapidly, but safely. Geordi plugged into the minimal power supply that was only just ticking over and started the process of bootstrapping the fusion reactor from its current state of quiescence.

He’d managed to coax it about a third of the way towards a sustained reaction - the neutron density had been climbing nicely - when things started to flatten out. Then they halted completely. The few panels that he’d managed to power up started to flash and then beep at him.

“Should have known it wouldn’t be that easy,” Geordi muttered to himself, checking the read outs.

It was a power distribution problem. Once that reactor started to fuse, the power needed to go somewhere and fast. The computer had halted the fusion start-up sequence because the power taps had gone offline.

Geordi walked over to the south-side of the room. There were various access ports above his head, each one about a metre square, with a pretty basic latch-pull release mechanism. Geordi found the one he needed, but the tricorder wasn’t reading much through a triple layer of titanium-duranium plating, so he reached up and unlatched the panel.

As it came away, a massive quantity of dust vented from the opening. Fine grained like powder, it hit the ground like a silent bomb and exploded outwards over the room, smothering Geordi.

Staggering backwards, he started to choke. He was enveloped in a suffocating haze, the dust first coating and then clogging his throat. Coughing and retching and desperate for air, Geordi stumbled towards the annex entrance.

“Geordi!” Riker’s voice sounded over the comm. “What the hell just happened?”

He tried to take a breath to reply, but all he could do was make a dreadful gasping sound that sucked more dust into his lungs.

Geordi collapsed to his knees and he managed to crawl just a few metres before passing out.

Data and Commander Riker were side by side when they heard a loud metallic clatter, quickly followed by the sound of Geordi choking. A plume of grey dust then fogged out from the annex.

“Geordi!” Riker said, hitting his communicator. “What the hell just happened?”

When there was no answer but a choking gasp, Commander Riker made to move towards the room. Data placed his hand on his superior’s chest.

“I will enter, it may not be safe for you, Commander.”

“Get him out of there, Data.” Commander Riker then coughed, and coughed hard, having breathed in some of the dust.

“Yes, sir,” said Data and he slipped deftly into the engineering annex and the smog of dust.

He was not able to see directly through the thick suspension that hung in the air, but Data was able to locate Geordi immediately. His body heat was clearly visible to Data as the infra-red radiation was not blocked by the dust. His friend was face down on the floor, not breathing. Data grabbed his wrists and dragged him swiftly into the main laboratory.

Data knelt by Geordi’s side and he began to clear the dust from his mouth and nose. Where it had come into contact with the moisture in his throat, the dust had formed a paste-like substance that had blocked Geordi’s airway. Data dug it out with his fingers, clearing enough that Geordi took in a single choking breath. Coughing up further grey clots of dust and mucus, Data held Geordi in the recovery position as his friend fought for air.

Commander Riker stood over them, evidently deeply concerned. He was coughing too, though far less frequently. The levels of dust in the lab were lower than those to which Geordi had been exposed.

The series of coughing fits which Geordi was experiencing did not seem to be lessening. He could not catch his breath. It was all that he could do to lie their and try to breathe.

“We’ve got to get him out of here,” said Commander Riker.

“Agreed,” said Data. “Geordi, if you are too weak to walk, I will carry you.”

Data had envisioned a ‘fireman’s lift’, in that he would carry Geordi over one of his shoulders. His friend, however, placed his arm around Data’s neck, apparently favouring a traditional, ‘bridal’ carry.

So for the few hundred yards to the elevator shaft, Data complied, carrying his injured friend in his arms, held close to his chest. He felt every racking cough as his friend struggled for breath, his whole body working overtime just to get air into his lungs.

Once they reached the ladder, a reassessment of their approach was required. As Geordi was hardly able to lift his head, it was clear he would not be able to assist in the exhausting climb back up the ladder.

“How the hell are you going to do this?” Riker asked, his eyes drawn up the ladder to the epic climb that lay ahead of them.

Data noted the rucksack which Commander Riker had been carrying and laid Geordi on the ground momentarily. He then pulled the straps off the rucksack, snapping the heavy-duty stitching as if it were nothing.

“In Academy training,” Data asked, fashioning the straps into their longest extent, “did you participate in the hill climb?”

Amongst his humanoid counterparts it had been a notorious test of endurance. Riker nodded. A 10km run up and down Mount Kelly, wherein the final 1,000 metres were completed with an ‘injured’ comrade over one’s shoulders. Data explained that he was envisioning that same process: Geordi was to lie across his shoulders, almost draped around the back of his neck. As he would need his hands free to climb the ladder and be unable to hold Geordi, they would secure Geordi to Data’s body with the straps from the rucksack.

Still wheezing and choking, Geordi reached out and squeezed Data’s hand, a nod of his head sparking another round of agonised coughing.

Data easily lifted Geordi onto his shoulders and Commander Riker strapped him tightly to Data. All the while Geordi coughed and choked and gasped. His condition had not improved for having been moved to the clear atmosphere of the corridor.

“Take him up as fast as you can,” Commander Riker said, “as safely as you can. I’ll wait at the bottom, follow when you’re topside. Beam out as soon as they can get a lock. Get going.”

“Aye, sir.” Then to Geordi, he said, “Try to hold on to my uniform if you are able. Once we are on the ladder, do not move. Remain still.”

With nothing more to discuss, Data grabbed onto the ladder, Geordi tightly fastened over his shoulders, and he began to climb. Data did not wish to prolong his friend’s distress any longer than was necessary, so he went fast. As fast as he felt was safe. He could feel each of Geordi’s rattling breaths, each one a desperate gasp for air.

Rhythmic and fluid, Data moved with a speed that he had once heard described as uncanny. The straps were holding and Geordi had done as he had been requested. He had not moved and was holding tight. He could feel how tense his friend was, fighting for each breath, entirely dependant on Data’s surefootedness. They were past half-way and if they fell, it was likely Data would sustain moderate to severe damage. Geordi, however, would be unlikely to survive a fall of that distance.

“Emergency medical beam out, direct to Sickbay,” Data ordered as he and Geordi emerged onto the surface. “Level Three Decontamination protocols are to be engaged.”

Three point six seconds later, Data felt the pull of the transporter and he and Geordi materialised in Sickbay.

Their unusual configuration caused momentary confusion before Dr Crusher and her team descended on them, Data assisting with unfastening Geordi’s straps. Data could see the force field that had been erected around them and how it allowed the medical staff to reach through to the patient without risk to themselves.

Data laid Geordi on the central bed, his breathing laboured and distressing, the force field following them until decontamination could be confirmed.

“What happened?” Dr Crusher asked whilst ordering her staff to administer drugs and run various tests.

Data recounted to the best of his knowledge and then he was separated into his own field to begin his decon. procedure. A short time later, Commander Riker joined him following treatment for his minor breathing difficulties. They then spoke with Captain Picard, who had arrived in Sickbay for an initial debrief.

In the hours that followed it became clear that Geordi’s injury was severe. The dust that had been taken deep into his lungs had an unusual configuration. Each particle had blade-like barbs of silicon carbide standing out from its surface. The myriad tiny grains had torn the delicate lining of Geordi’s lungs to shreds. The damage was extensive and progressive and he was no longer able to breathe by himself. Dr Crusher had reluctantly placed him onto full bypass. His blood was being syphoned off, oxygenated externally and then returned to his body. His heart no longer beat and his chest was unsettlingly still. She had asked for Data and Captain Picard to attend a meeting in her office.

“We’ve washed out Geordi’s lungs so many times, I’ve lost count,” she said. “There is still an excess of dust lodged deep in the alveoli, lodged in the cell walls. Every time he tried to breathe, it caused more damage. We’ve had to put him onto emergency bypass. We couldn’t keep his oxygen levels up any other way.”

“What can we do for him?” Picard asked.

Beverly looked sombre. “I think we need to divert to a Starbase. If we can’t stabilise him and find a way to remove that dust, he’s going to need a lung transplant and soon.”

There was silence as the Captain and Data himself took in the news.

“We’re over two weeks’ travel from Starbase 253, Doctor,” Picard said.

“I know,” said Dr Crusher, still serious and still sombre. “Data, is there any way the transporters could be modified to remove this dust from Geordi?”

He considered the idea. “The transporters’ bio-filters are just that. They filter out undesirable biological matter. As the dust is non-biological and not in and of itself toxic, it would not be detected as a potential hazard. It may be possible to retune the targeting scanners and apply a regressive search protocol whilst holding Geordi’s pattern in the buffer. I will discuss the matter with Chief O’Brien.”

An alarm sounded and Beverly was out of her chair and at Geordi’s bedside in seconds. Nurse McNally was running an urgent scan over Geordi’s chest.

“There’s a blood clot. Pulmonary artery.”

Captain Picard joined Data at the edge of the treatment area as Dr Crusher and her team rushed to stabilise Geordi’s condition.

“Mr Data, begin work on those transporter modifications,” the Captain said. “In the meantime, I will order a course change for Starbase 253.”

“Aye, sir,” said Data and with a last glance towards Geordi and the medical staff gathered around him, he left Sickbay and headed for Transport Room Two.

“How is Commander La Forge?” O’Brien asked, breaking open the floor of the transporter pad.

“His condition is critical,” Data replied, assisting with the removal of the pattern buffer from beneath the flooring.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I was looking at the analysis you sent me. Of the dust. What the hell is that stuff? I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“It appears to be a by-product produced when the station was drilled out of the natural geology. The dust produced then reacted with the materials present in the station and began to degrade the outer shell. I believe this is why the Kelrax abandoned their research. They became aware of the slow degradation of the fabric of the station.”

“Nice of them to mention it.”

“Prior notification of the issue would have been advantageous.”

Data bore the Kelrax no malice for their oversight or their reluctance in this matter, even though it had had terrible consequences for his closest friend. He was focused on finding a solution with Chief O’Brien.

They worked into the evening, hypothesising, testing, refining and re-testing until they were confident that their modifications would be sufficient to discriminate between the dust embedded in Geordi’s lungs and his own tissues.

Commander Riker arrived. He had volunteered to be their ‘guinea pig’. As he had also been exposed to the dust, he was an excellent candidate for their first live test.

“Thank you, Commander. This will be an invaluable contribution.”

“Data, he was hurt under my command. On my Away Team. This is the least I can do.”

They put Commander Riker through their modified transport and successfully extracted 0.34 grams of silcated material from his pattern.

As Data was about to tap his communicator to report to her, Dr Crusher’s voice came over the comm system.

“Crusher to Data. We’re having increasing difficulty in maintaining the bypass. How are you getting on?”

“We are confident we will be able to remove the dust, Doctor. How is Geordi?”

“He needs to come off bypass as soon as possible. He’s not tolerating the infusion at all well and we’re struggling to keep his sats up. Are you ready now?”

“Yes. We will beam Geordi from Sickbay, hold his pattern in the buffer for twenty three seconds and then rematerialise him back in Sickbay. Do you need to prepare Geordi for transport?”

“We’re ready to take him off bypass. Transport on my mark.”

“Understood. Transporter Room Two standing by.”

A few moments passed.

“Crusher to Data. Energise.”

Chief O’Brien, having already directed the transporter, had only to slide his fingers over the columns on his console. Data watched as a silvery form appeared, shimmering and ghost-like, across the floor of the transporter. Geordi was held there as O’Brien ran their modified reintegration protocol. As Data scanned with his tricorder, he watched and listened whilst twenty three seconds ticked down.

“Reintegration completed,” said O’Brien. “I’ve got about ten grams of silcated carbide and metallic residue to discard.”

“Complete Commander La Forge’s beam back to Sickbay and beam the residue to a secure container. I wish to study it further.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Crusher to Data. We have him.”

“All went as expected,” Data replied. “We have extracted 10.76 grams of material from Geordi’s lungs. How is he, Doctor?”

“He’s not out of the woods yet. Crusher out.”

Data understood that the removal of the dust was only the first stage in securing Geordi’s recovery. However, it was disconcerting that there was no immediate news on his condition.

He then assisted Chief O’Brien in re-setting the transporter functions. When that was completed it was after 2030 hours and he had officially been off duty for more than four hours.

He went directly to Sickbay and found that Geordi was back on bypass and that Dr Crusher was struggling to repair the damage to his lungs.

She left her staff tending to Geordi and ushered Data into her office.

“It is not going well?” Data asked as they sat down.

“The damage to his lungs is severe and extensive. Almost every cell has been affected. The standard treatments aren’t designed to work at that level and at that concentration. They’re producing some results, but we’re having to supplement that small return by putting him back on bypass. I don’t think he will tolerate that for more than the next few hours before we need to try something else.”

“What do you suggest?”

“There is a procedure. It is extreme but I think it might be Geordi’s best chance.”

Dr Crusher then went on to explain the details of the treatment. Data listened intently, intrigued by the radical nature of what she was proposing and expecting her to request of him the technical assistance that her team would undoubtedly require. But that was not what Dr Crusher said next.

“Both of Geordi’s parents are several days’ communication away. I need a decision within hours, not days.”

She paused and when she did not resume speaking, Data realised Dr Crusher was expecting a response from him.

“I do not understand,” he said, unable to deduce what she required.

“I need your decision,” Dr Crusher said and then she seemed to realise he needed additional clarification. “Because you’re listed as the alternate in lieu of Geordi’s next of kin.”

Data’s head twitched, an intensive review of his memory banks bringing up nothing in regard to Dr Crusher’s statement.

“I did not know,” Data said softly. “I did not know he had done that.”

That appeared to surprise Dr Crusher. “You hadn’t discussed this with Geordi?”

“No, Doctor. I… I do not know what to say.”

Data was experiencing an odd sensation. His positronic net was firing rapidly. A unique pattern flashed across his neurons, a complex series of multi-faceted calculations which he had never before processed. It was fascinating. It was distracting. 

“We need to buy Geordi some time,” Dr Crusher said. “Time for the treatments to work and for his own healing to occur. And if that doesn’t happen, time for us to get to Starbase 253.”

“Then I consent to the treatment.”

“Thank you, Data. The transition period can be distressing. It would help if there was a friendly face there when he wakes up.”

“I will be there,” said Data, still attempting to incorporate his friend’s remarkable decision into his programming.

Data had been correct in his determination that Dr Crusher would require his assistance with speeding through the required technical elements. The fastest way to create the equipment on Dr Crusher’s list was to commandeer Holodeck Three. The holodeck’s ability to replicate unusual items in a large space was perfect for their requirements. The medical equipment was being brought in from Sickbay, but for the unique parts required, Data had programmed Dr Crusher’s specifications into the holodeck in triple-quick time.

The single largest element was the cylindrical holding tank. A little over two metres high and one and a half metres in diameter, it stood in the centre of the room on a raised platform. A control panel and comm system had been built into it.

“Computer, fill the tank with three and a half thousand litres of perflurocarbon at thirty-five degrees Celsius.”

The internal void of the tank shimmered. As the replicator beam dissipated, it revealed a tank now filled with gin-clear liquid.

Data continued to work with Dr Crusher’s staff and technicians, linking the tank to their medical equipment. The final act required of him was to initiate the oxygen enrichment of the perfluorcarbon fluid. He stepped over to the console and tapped in the required commands. The base of the tank fizzed as oxygen bubbled up from the gas diffusion grating. Data noted the oxygen level in the tank begin to rise, watching as the reading climbed towards the required percentile.

“Data to Dr Crusher.”

“Crusher here.”

“The readings are stabilised at the necessary levels. We are ready to transport.”

“Standby, Data.”

Several minutes passed before the centre of the tank once again shimmered, this time with the effects of a transporter beam. The level of liquid began to rise as Geordi’s form materialised inside the tank. Heavily sedated, he hung in the column of liquid, neutrally buoyant due to the harness which was fastened around his chest. Wearing only briefs to protect his modesty, two tubes had been surgically inserted into Geordi’s body, one into his stomach, the other into his abdomen. His eyes were closed, his VISOR inputs strobing red as the liquid shifted around him. His head lolled forward and his arms floated gently away from his sides.

Data watched in fascination as Geordi took his first breath of the richly oxygenated fluid. As anticipated, he was having some difficulty exhaling the dense liquid. Dr Crusher arrived and went directly to the console. She activated the harness and Data saw it squeeze Geordi’s ribcage and tighten under his diaphragm, assisting with the expulsion of the perflurocarbon. The harness then relaxed and Geordi drew in another breath. The system then fell into sync with each cycle, tightening to assist on the exhale, then releasing to allow him to inhale.

“Let’s get the feeding and waste tubes connected up,” Dr Crusher ordered.

There were ports built into the cylinder wall. The medical technicians pushed forward a large mobile unit and connected its two tubes into the tank. Once connected, they activated the unit and the tubes then extended into the tank. Magnetically coded, the feeding connectors searched out and attached to the tube which emerged from Geordi’s stomach. The waste conduit did likewise, locking into the stoma in Geordi’s abdomen.

“He’s stable and his oxygen stats are at 92%,” Dr Crusher reported. “That’s the best we’ve managed so far. Okay, let’s get the tethers attached.”

One of her technicians used a small set of steps to bring themselves level with the central portion of the cylinder. Behind Geordi, set into the back wall of the tank, was a duranium plate. A few taps on its external control panel and three high-tensile steel cables emerged from it. They attached to the back of Geordi’s harness, one at each shoulder blade with a third anchored centrally, mid-way down his spine.

“Oxygen sats are at 94%, 95%. That is excellent,” said Dr Crusher, her eyes moving between Geordi in the cylinder and the console in front of her.

Data looked up at his friend, hanging unconscious in the column of crystal-clear liquid, tubes and wires attached to his body. His friend. His friend who had trusted him with the enormity of this decision. It was still a distraction to Data that Geordi had amended his wishes and yet had chosen not to discuss it with him. It was an act of faith and conviction, and of a magnitude which Data was struggling to integrate.

“I think we’re ready to try lightening his sedation. Nurse, infuse the cylinder with 20% reversing agent.”

The nurse complied, tapping Dr Crusher’s instructions into the console. The base of the cylinder fizzed as the medication dispersed into the fluid. Data watched as Geordi breathed in the agent and slowly his friend began to stir.

He was floating. He felt heavy. He felt heavy even though he was floating. And he felt warm. Heavy and warm and he was floating. He took a breath and he felt fluid rush into his lungs, thick and warm and heavy. Geordi’s eyes flew open, his hands clawing instinctively at his throat, as panic, the pure, searing panic of liquid flooding down his windpipe, consumed his mind.

The last thing he remembered was choking, gasping and being so desperate for air that his lungs burned. He didn’t know where he was or how this had happened, but he was under water and he was drowning.

He kicked hard, thrashing his arms and legs in this fluid-filled darkness. His hands and feet thumped into glass. In his terror, he scrabbled to grab something, anything, so that he could drag himself into the air. His lungs were tight with liquid and the sensation of it filling his chest was horrific, unbearable and alien in the extreme.

He kicked again, trying for an unseen surface that he knew must be somewhere above his head - but something yanked hard on his body, jolting him back. Something was holding him down, keeping him under, something around his chest. Panic-fuelled, his hands began to tear at the straps that criss-crossed his chest but he couldn’t get them loose.

He could hear muffled voices, raised, shouting and he tried to call out to them. He wanted to scream, _Get me out! Get me out!_ but he couldn’t make a sound. The fluid filling his lungs and throat had silenced him completely and that rush of silent liquid was all that spilled from his mouth.

He tried again, kicking for the surface and reaching out desperately with both hands, unable to see that his fingertips were only ever agonisingly short of the sealed lid of the tank.

The helpless breath he had to take sucked dense liquid deep into his bursting lungs. The fear was overwhelming, his mind and body desperate to reject what was happening to him.

He heard someone shout his name. The sound was still muted, but it was someone shouting his name.

“Geordi! Geordi, calm down.”

 _Beverly?_

He turned his head towards the sound, the dense liquid dragging against his skin, his fingers skidding over the curved glass of this horrific prison. 

“Geordi, you’re safe. You’re safe. Try to calm down.”

He couldn’t understand where he was, what was happening or why Beverly was there but not helping him.

“You can breathe,” Beverly was saying. “You can breathe.”

“Geordi.”

Another voice. _Data’s voice._ Geordi’s heart soared with hope that he was here. He pressed the palms of both hands against the glass, his face turned towards the sound of Data’s voice. 

“Do not distress yourself. You were injured and could not breathe. The liquid you are suspended in is bathing your lungs in an oxygen-enriched fluid.”

Data’s words cut through Geordi’s panic, the rational cadence of his voice defusing the terror that had consumed him. As Data’s words sank in, Geordi began to comprehend that although he felt like he was drowning, he was not dying.

“Good,” said Dr Crusher. “That’s good. I know this is upsetting, but you’re perfectly safe. Try to breathe as normally as you can.”

The sensation of liquid being dragged into his lungs was appalling, but Geordi tried not to fight it, despite every instinct screaming for him to do so. The need to cough and choke was immense and it took an act of will to overcome the reflex on each breath. His chest, heavy with dense fluid, ached as the harness squeezed tight, assisting him on the exhausting exhale.

Geordi couldn’t speak, so he tapped at his temples, wanting his VISOR. Wanting to see. _Needing_ to see what had been done to him.

“One moment, Geordi,” Data said. “If you place your hands together, palms-upward, I will beam your VISOR to you.”

He did as directed and he felt the crescent of metal materialise onto his upturned hands. Geordi closed his fingers around it and slotted it over his eyes. Sight was instantaneous and it delivered a shock of deeply distorted visions to Geordi’s brain. The density of the liquid and the thick, curved glass of the tank both served to warp the world in a way that Geordi had never seen before. Faces and shapes loomed at him out of a bright, formless void, like phantoms from a haunted hall of mirrors.

Beverly was a smear of blue topped with a streak of red. Data’s gold uniform and gold skin merged him into a strange pillar of light, the shimmer of his aura intensified somehow. The glow of it, distortions and all, was still mesmerising.

Geordi tore his gaze away from Data and looked around his more immediate confines. He was submerged in a cylindrical tank. He was attached to it by tubes and wires. He stared down at those that were sticking out of his stomach, his mind glitching at the sight of the medical tech invading his body.

He was able to stretch out his arms and have both palms flat against the glass. The floor of the tank, some twenty centimetres below his feet, was a grating from which occasional effusions of oxygen would erupt. In amongst the utter mind-bending wrongness of breathing liquid and having tubes sticking out of his belly, the blast of bubbles over his whole body was like being immersed in a bizarre jacuzzi.

Geordi didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. Either or both seemed an appropriate response.

He was trapped under glass and under water, displayed like some weird exhibit, bottled like one of his father’s scientific specimens. 

He put his forehead against the curve of the tank, matching its curve to that of his VISOR. Pressed up against the glass, he could minimise the distorting effects of the liquid and see a little more clearly out into a world he was cut off from.

There were six blue streaks dotted around the room and one golden one. Geordi knocked on the glass and waved for Data to approach.

“You are doing very well,” Data said. His voice was dulled by the liquid but still, it was sweet solace to hear him speak. “It cannot have been easy.”

Geordi mimed his head exploding and then he pressed both hands to the glass. Data reached out, one hand reaching up to match Geordi’s gesture with his own. They held the moment and each others’ gaze and Geordi felt a little less alone.

Abruptly, Data broke their segregated connection, appearing to be called away. As he turned from him, Geordi knocked urgently on the glass once more.

“Geordi?” Data asked.

Into his open palm, Geordi tapped the fingers of his other hand.

It took Data a millisecond to understand.

“You would like a PADD?”

Geordi nodded violently. He had a thousand questions and he was desperate, if not to speak then to communicate in any way he could.

“I will obtain one from Oceanographics and adapt it for use in perflurocarbon.”

And then Data was moving away, further than before, until his image was lost to Geordi in the distorted blur beyond the glass.

Data hadn’t returned yet. Geordi didn’t know how long it had been, but it felt like hours. Hours where his only contact had been a series of muffled instructions and words of encouragement which were beginning to wear a little thin. There were only so many times Geordi could hear, _‘You’re doing great!_ ’ in the tone of voice you’d use to house-train a puppy before he wanted to bang his head off the tank wall.

He kicked his feet hard and pushed out and down with his hands, moving himself higher in the cylinder, and then higher still. It was such an odd feeling. He was weirdly weightless and yet it was taking a lot of effort to move in the dense fluid. Stretching out, Geordi could just get the tips of his fingers out of the fluid, but the lid of the tank remained out of reach. It rippled in his vision, the circular slab of glass seeming to taunt him from his submerged perspective.

“Geordi, come down,” Beverly said, her voice sounding lower and slower as it came to him through the heavy liquid.

He looked at her, a metre and a half below him, still just a distorted smudge. 

“Come down,” Beverly said, more sternly this time. “You’re putting pressure on your stomas.”

The tubes in his stomach had pulled tight, but not painfully so. He wanted to tell her it was okay, that it didn’t hurt, but it was difficult to communicate something that complicated. Geordi settled for shaking his head and then giving a thumbs up. He couldn’t do much in this strange, dense liquid, and he wasn’t about to surrender the bit of movement he did have. 

“They’re not hurting?” she asked.

He shook his head and once again tapped his fingers on his palm. Data had been gone an age. Geordi could have built a PADD from scratch in the time Data had been absent - if he’d been in Engineering that was, and not incarcerated underwater in a massive jar.

He wanted to know what the time was. Hell, he wanted to know what _day_ it was and he was beyond desperate to know how long he had to be in this thing. He had no idea how to mime those questions to Beverly, so he asked for a PADD again.

“Data has had to go back to the Bridge,” Dr Crusher replied. “Captain Picard is in communication with the Kelrax. We’re hoping they may have some experience with the dust you were exposed to. Data’s analysis and any medical records they can send could really help with your recovery.”

Geordi nodded miserably. He was no longer treading water and so he sank back down the cylinder. He let himself fall, feeling slow and strange, until he reached the neutral position that he’d woken up in. His descent came to a gentle halt as he momentarily felt a slight tension in the harness.

The warmth and the pressure of the liquid all around him was oppressive and the sensation of it being drawn into his lungs was still enough to make his mind flip. The muscles in his chest and abdomen ached from the effort of breathing the dense liquid.

His sinuses were flooded, his ears were full of fluid and there was no way for him to clear it. His head thudded dully, like he had the worst head cold in the quadrant coming on. 

There was nothing he could do but float there and endure it all, the battle to remain calm taking up most of his mental resources. The low-level terror and almost complete isolation were nearly intolerable. Geordi needed to occupy his mind and so he tried to decipher the distorted visuals that surrounded him. 

The world outside the tank was an impressionistic blur. It was so unlike his usual vision, he was having difficulty understanding what he was seeing. Edges had lost all definition, colours bled into one other and textures were smoothed away into nothingness. It was like looking at a drawing made in pastels that had been half-washed away in the rain.

He could make out a faint echo of the hexagonal holo-emitters which were buried in the walls. He looked around the room and he was just able to see the honeycomb structure beneath the projected image of walls and floors and ceilings. It was something he had learned to intentionally ignore, but seeing the lattice surrounding him, blurred and distorted and faintly pulsing, only added to his growing sense of alienation.

A sound made him turn. The door of the Holodeck had just opened. His hope that it was Data was quickly dashed as the figure that entered was another splotch of blue, this time topped with a tumble of darkness – Deanna.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here before,” she said.

She had probably felt his freak-out-on-waking from ten decks away.

“The Captain and I have been in protracted discussions with the Kelrax diplomatic corps,” Deanna continued. “Data seems to be having better luck with their chief negotiator, so he asked me to bring you this.”

She held something up and Geordi put his face closer to the glass. A PADD. _Finally_.

He pushed back, held out his hands and Deanna transported it over to him. It had a suction stalk attached to the back so it could be attached to the tank when he didn’t need it.

Geordi typed, _“How long do I have to stay in here?”_

The PADD broadcast his words out over the comm system, in an oddly regimented version of his own voice.

A shock of auburn and blue joined Deanna’s blurry form.

“I’m afraid it’s going to be a week or so,” Beverly said. 

The thought of having to be in the tank for so long made him quail. Geordi’s shoulders dropped and he bowed his head. He wasn’t sure he could do this. 

Deanna must have felt it. “I know it’s hard, but you have been doing amazingly,” she said. 

“You’ve tolerated the transition into breathing liquid remarkably well,” Beverly added.

Geordi raised his eyebrows at that. They were humouring him, they must be. He felt like he was perpetually on the brink of losing it. If this was dealing with it well, God knew what badly would look like.

Then the Holodeck doors opened again and a figure immersed in gold entered.

_Data!_

Geordi’s mood instantly leapt several notches and he pushed himself against the glass. As his hands splayed wide, the PADD slipped from his fingers. In the dense liquid, it fell like a feather, see-sawing its way to the bottom of the tank.

“You’re finished already?” Deanna said, surprised.

“The Kelrax unexpectedly withdrew from our negotiations a short time ago,” Data said. “I was however, successful in obtaining some of their internal reports. I have transferred them to your database, Doctor.”

“Excellent, Data, thank you.”

Beverly moved off, leaving the blue-black smudge of Deanna and the shimmering gold of Data stood in front of his tank.

“You have dropped your PADD,” Data observed. “I will retrieve it for you.”

For a confused moment, Geordi imagined Data jumping into the tank and fetching it up from the bottom for him. But of course all he did was transport it back into Geordi’s hands.

 _“Thank you, Data,”_ Geordi typed, his artificial voice dull and strange to his own ears. _“It is so good to see you. And thank you for the PADD. I was going out of my mind.”_

“I do not think that is likely. You have only been confined for fifteen hours, thirty nine minutes. Severe psychological effects would take longer to manifest.”

_“Every one of these minutes feels like an hour, let me tell you.”_

“I have often heard that in distressing or shocking circumstances, humans feel that time has slowed. It is fascinating that your perspective can be affected in such a manner.”

 _“That’s not the word I’d use,”_ Geordi said.

“I have conducted experiments into my own perception of time, but I have yet to fully replicate the sensation which you report.”

_“You’re not missing much.”_

“I should still like to experience the phenomenon. Perhaps when you are recovered, we could explore the question together.”

 _“I’d like that,”_ said Geordi. It would be something to think about other than his own miserable situation, pondering Data’s programming, how that manifested as his perception of time and how they might manipulate that. _“Did you de-couple your chronometer from the ship’s clock?”_

“Yes, Geordi. I was attempting to test the aphorism a watched pot never boils, and at Commander Riker’s suggestion, I turned off my internal clock, with only limited success.”

 _“We could try modulating the under-lying metrics with a phase inhibitor,”_ Geordi mused.

“Well,” said Deanna, her voice indicating the conversation was moving past her area of expertise. “I’ll leave you two to discuss this alone.”

Alone as they could be, with a room full of medical staff able to hear every word, but when Deanna had moved away, Geordi began typing.

 _“I wanted to say thank you for something else,”_ he said. _“For getting me out of there. For getting me out of the lab.”_

“You do not have to thank me.”

_“You walked in there not knowing what you’d find or if you’d be affected. If you hadn’t done that, I would have died. And you carried me out and thank you sounds so small, but you saved my life and I don’t have the words…”_

There was a knot forming in Geordi’s throat. It didn’t stop him typing like it would have stopped him speaking, but his thoughts seized as his emotions took hold.

“That is kind of you to say, Geordi. I am only grateful that I was on the mission.” Data paused. “It has crossed my mind several times - what would have happened if I had not been there?”

There was a longer period of silence and Geordi saw Data’s aura beginning to spread, swirls of deeper gold unwinding through the air around him.

Then Data said abruptly, “I have requested a leave of absence.”

Stricken, Geordi’s spirits sank like a stone. He tapped out a desperate, “ _Where are you going?”_

There was a delay in Data’s response, long enough for Geordi to notice it and become increasingly concerned.

“I am not going anywhere,” Data replied, a hint of confusion audible. The golden column shifted as he moved closer to the cylinder. “It is so I may remain here with you, whilst you convalesce.”

The words hit Geordi like a wave and his chest felt like it would burst. Tears burned in his eyes. As they slipped from under his VISOR, for the first time, Geordi was grateful he was where he was. No one would be able to see that he was moved to tears.

“Computer,” Data said, “create one classical guitar, strung for a left-handed player.”

Geordi saw the shimmer as it appeared in front of Data. That he would do this for him – it was as tender and generous a gift that Geordi had ever been given.

As Data began to play, the muted sounds of one of his favourite pieces reached into Geordi’s soul, and despite everything, he felt healed.


End file.
